


Until Sunrise

by sewer_seance



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Cinderella AU, F/F, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Gay Nick Carraway, Happy Ending, Hopeless Romantic, Lesbian Jordan Baker, Lesbian Sex, Love at First Sight, M/M, MLM Relationship, Magic, Other, Royalty AU, Short & Sweet, True Love, Wishes, allusion to abuse, bisexual jay gatsby, black jay gatsby, himbo lesbian solidarity, lesbian daisy buchanan, looking at you jay and jordan, mlm/wlw solidarity, nblw relationship, nick carragay if you will, nonbinary jordan baker, side jordan baker/daisy buchanan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewer_seance/pseuds/sewer_seance
Summary: Jay, a benevolent, if not slightly hopeless romantic King, has been given a deadline of three nights, a masquerade ball on each night, to find his true love before he is faced with an arranged marriage. What isn't helping is that his true keeps fleeing the ball before he can ask his name.Nick, a royal gardener, with the help of some wishing stones, is disguised at the King's masquerade ball to implore his help for his friend and fellow servant, Daisy. What he wasn't prepared for is falling in love.A self-indulgent Cinderella AU with two couples instead of one, both of them gay.
Relationships: Daisy Buchanan & Nick Carraway, Jordan Baker & Jay Gatsby, Jordan Baker/Daisy Buchanan, Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. Announcement

**Author's Note:**

> Jay Gatsby is black in this fic because he is the best Jay Gatsby

All things considered, life as a servant in the royal household was not the worst fate. Yes, the work was demanding, especially in Nick’s position as a gardener, often sending him to bed bone sore and too exhausted to clean the grime off of his body. He rose before the sun and quit long after it had set. Yet everyday Nick considered himself lucky. Royal servants were often better treated by their benevolent King, even if they never came into contact with him. Even if the King was cruel, Nick would have stayed in this position. 

He loved the gardens, and could name every specimen that grew on the grounds, and he was immensely proud of his work. He knew the rows of greenery better than his own reflection. He knew the best time to plant which flowers so that they bloomed brilliant and divine where the King could view them from his balcony. He knew his favorite flower to plant were chrysanthemums. He knew the best trees in the orchard and which branches yielded the tenderest fruits. Nick had not always lived at the palace, but being in the gardens, his neck and arms turning nut brown under the sun, was the only life he had ever known. 

Nick was lucky enough to live on the grounds at the furthest corner, where the flora turned from manicured to wild, in a little hut. The dwelling was invisible unless you were almost on top of it, knocking on the door. Lush trees and gargantuan flowering bushes overshadowed it, and ivy grew from the numerous cracks in the wall. There was one dirt-floored room with scarcely enough space for a sleeping mat, a chest with his few belongings, and a chair. Yes, his humble existence was much better than some others were granted. There were others in lesser households who were abused simply for the sake of being abused. This was the plight of Daisy, a scullery maid in the Buchanan household, whom he had shared a few friendly encounters with at market. 

Daisy had never once complained, but what her mouth kept secret, her defeated eyes betrayed. Her build was petite, and underneath all the rags her beauty could be recognized. Nick on the other hand, was tall and wiry, with a mess of hair and a scar like spider’s silk stretching from the tip of his eyebrow to the top of his cheek.

Since their first incidental meeting, Nick did what he could to help, even if the most he could afford some days was an encouraging smile. It always worried him whenever Daisy didn’t show up to market on her usual days. After these disappearances, she would always come back, looking a little smaller, a little more frail than before. The third time after this happened, Nick spoke up. 

“There must be something that can be done,” he whispered gently, a fire against Daisy’s masters blazing in his throat. 

Daisy smiled sweetly up at him and spoke in a whisper of a voice, “There is nothing that comes to mind, unless you have a miraculous plan hidden in that bag of seed.” 

Nick did not allow the burn within him to diminish. “We can petition the King! Tell him about the injustices being done...I know he’d listen.” 

Daisy laughed, and it was good to see her brighten up a little. “How you go on! You talk as if you and the King were the most intimate of friends!” 

Nick blushed more than a little. “We’re not. He’s a good King, and I have a feeling he would care about this.” 

“What? Care about something so dull as a scullery maid in a nobleman’s house? Dull as a speck of dust?” 

“Especially then,” Nick said seriously, giving her an encouraging smile, the scar on his face twisting. 

* * *

Though a grown man and a king, Jay believed he was allowed the occasional pout and his current situation certainly called for one. The meeting with his advisors had ended an hour ago and he was still putting off drafting the address they required of him. Because it was ridiculous. And unfair. Ultimatums always were. 

Three nights. That was all they had approved. Three nights, three balls, and if by then he had not chosen a suitor for himself, they would choose one for him. How did they expect him to find true love in just three nights? For some reason, his advisors had grown increasingly concerned with his being unwed and they had the gall to blame it on his “idealistic and overly dramatic notions of romance”. So what if he was swept away in improbable, rose colored fantasies every now and then (all the time)? He was young and with the exception of a friend or two, palace life was lonely. Who wouldn’t be caught up in their own dreams for companionship? Daydreaming of a one true love entering his life in a dramatic fashion wouldn’t ruin the kingdom. According to his advisors, however, it was time to move on. 

The door to his chamber opened the slightest fraction, allowing one lithe figure to slip through. As steady and put together as ever, Jordan, Grand Duke and his best friend, stood before him. They were dressed in the traditional navy and gold, their long ebony hair pulled neatly back. Normally, no one was permitted to enter his chambers without express invitation or appointment, but Jordan had never found a need to heed this rule. 

“Three nights!” Jay burst once he saw the Grand Duke, who had also been privy to the advisors decision,“Three and then I’ll be bartered off to a strange suitor!” 

“A suitor who will be good for the kingdom,” Jordan added, their lip quirking up at one corner. 

Jay rolled his eyes, ignoring the tease. “I don’t see what the rush is. Why am I not admitted a leisurely courtship, one where I could deeply and completely fall in love?” He slumped forward onto his desk, his pout increasing. 

“Because you have no one to court,” Jordan pointed out unhelpfully. “Besides-” they strode forward and perched themselves atop his desk, looking down their long straight nose “-love is not a requirement for marriage.” 

“It is for me!” Jay started up off the desk, affronted by the idea. He knew that Jordan was trying their best to comfort him in their own unique way, but he was distraught and refused to be consoled this moment. The other gently tapped a few fingers to the back of his hand, letting him wallow in his own self-pity. An idea struck him. 

“What if we were to marry?” 

Jordan let out a bark of laughter, hard and slightly mocking. 

“I do not wish to discourage you, but that is, without a doubt, the worst proposal to ever pass your lips.” 

Jay bristled, his genius loophole slipping through his fingers. He hadn’t exactly expected it to work, but he hadn’t expected for it to be brushed aside so swiftly either. 

“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t. Our marriage would satisfy the advisors, and you’re better than the alternative, which is a stranger.” 

Jordan shook their head as he spoke, a very tired, vaguely annoyed expression settling on their face. “As much as I would love to be your alternative, marrying each other would not solve your problems. We do not love each other-” Jordan gave him a quick glance to confirm this “-and I doubt very much a love would bloom within our sham.” 

They were right of course. How annoying. Jordan had always preferred women, while Jay’s preferences had never been limited. Theirs would be a sham marriage. His majesty’s pout increased as he slumped forward onto his desk once more. Somewhere above him, he heard a signature sigh. 

‘Don’t be like this,” they scolded lightly, “Honestly, one would have thought you would be thrilled by the proposition of the three balls. Have you not always dreamed you would find ‘true love in a dramatic fashion’? Here is your opportunity!” 

Jay humphed, but there was no animosity behind it. Jordan was right again. Perhaps the solution was in the problem. It was at least worth a try. A scene suddenly played out before him. Glimmering lights, dancing all night long with a beautiful stranger, love approaching him unexpected and fast. 

“Alright,” Jay ceded, arming himself with a peacock feathered quill, “But if this does not work, I am holding you responsible.” 

Jordan laughed and moved off his desk. “I would expect nothing less.” 

Later that day, during the height of market, the town heralds delivered a message, directly from the desk of the King: 

_ “His Majesty the King formally invites all of his subjects to attend a royal masque which will be held within a fortnight. The masque will extend for three nights, at the end of which the King will choose someone to ask their hand in marriage.”  _

Among the crowd were two servants, listening curiously to the message. At the mention of a royal masquerade, a hum of excitement and anticipation rose from the people. Next to him, Daisy sighed dreamily, hopelessly wishful. A sprig of an idea popped into Nick’s head. At the announcement of the King selecting a spouse from the guests, the crowd erupted into a chorus of ‘oohs’, ‘aahs’, and chatter. The uproar was more than understandable. The King was widely recognized as being handsome, with warm dark brown skin, broad shoulders, and curved lips. Nick had occasionally caught glances of him before as he idled through garden paths, but had been careful to watch him from afar where he could see but not be seen. 

Once the rowdy nature began to settle, Nick offered to escort Daisy back to the Buchanan’s manor. 

“A ball,” Daisy hummed once they had turned onto a quieter road through a light wood, “Imagine what a ball up at the palace might be like.” 

Nick flickered his gaze to her face. Her smile was sad, but not hopeless. He knew a ball meant more work from the gardeners, selecting the best fruits and vegetables, along with flowers for decoration. But he was excited. Not because his position offered some proximity to the action, but because of the plot that began to hatch in his mind. The seed had planted himself and now nothing would stop him until his goal was reached. 

“Daisy,” he stopped walking and turned to face her head on, “We’re going to that masque.”

Her sweet eyes widened. “You can promise such a thing?” 

“What better time to speak to the King about your situation? In any case, I think you deserve a few fantastical nights.” 

The corners of Daisy’s eyes began to glisten and she threw her arms around Nick’s neck, which she could barely reach. 

“You are such a dear friend,” she sniffed somewhere into his vest before pulling back, “But how do you expect they’ll let the likes of us into the masque?” They both looked down at their tattered, dirty appearances. “I don’t believe my apron or your patched trousers will fit the dress code, and neither of us have any coin for something new. How will we ever pull it off?” 

Nick looked down the road both ways. Seeing that they were alone, Nick looked back to Daisy, his eyes bright. 

“Wishes.” 


	2. First Night of the Masque

The stone had been in Nick’s possession for as long as he could remember, a gift that some lucky member of his family had been given years ago, passed down until it had reached him. He had always been told it was special; a dusty, faintly glimmering gray lump. Family legend said it was a stray piece of a shooting star and could grant wishes, wishes that would only last while it’s sister stars were awake. Selling it had never been an option, not for any member of the family. A gift like this was too magnificent to exchange for something as insignificant as money. Surely, it would be an insult to the universe as well, for only destiny could have brought the wishing stone to them. Nick had no doubts as to whether it would work. Daisy on the other hand…

“Nick,” she began slowly, glancing between his face and the rock he so gently held, the cloth it had been wrapped in preventing it from touching his bare skin. “Are you...certain about this?” She spoke carefully, not knowing how to let him down without insulting him. Especially after he had so excitedly led her back to his hut on the edge of the grounds and produced this sad, silly rock from its hiding place behind a loose stone in the wall. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Nick acknowledged, wrapping the wish stone back up, “But I know its magic to be true!” Daisy bit her lip, teetering between believing him and thinking her one and only friend a madman. He took her hand and waited until she met his gaze. 

“Trust me,” he soothed. 

Daisy’s wavered for a second longer before nodding with finality. “I do.” 

As expected, there was no rest for the next two weeks. Aside from his own workload, Nick was required to aid other servants around the palace when he could. The gardens had never before been kept in such pristine shape: if even the tiniest pebble was askew in the paths, Nick bore the punishment deemed suitable by the head gardener. A switch was beat about his ankles until he had corrected the rogue pebble or the stray leaf. It was not the worst retribution to pay, but it still was unenjoyable. The first few nights of preparing for the masque, Nick ended his day with bloodied ankles. 

Once the gardens passed the scrutinization of the head of house and the head gardener, Nick’s efforts were employed elsewhere. He scrubbed the grand staircase and the windows of the palace. His knees and knuckles ached and at the end of those days, he could hardly bring himself to straighten them back out. As soon as one task was finished, there was always another waiting on the never ending list. By this rate, when the masque came around Nick would be too exhausted to sneak in. Yet, his determination would not fail him. 

The first night of the ball finally arrived. Nick had never been more broken in body but never higher in spirits. He alone retired to his hut while a few others had put on their best clothes, standing anxiously about to try and catch a glimpse of all the elegant guests. Servants had not been banned from attending the ball, and yet it was unspoken that their presence was unwelcome. And so off to the side they stayed. 

Daisy was late joining Nick in his dwelling, but they had prepared for this. After all, she had to wait for her masters to leave before she was able to sneak out. She appeared in his doorway, looking more raggedy than usual, dust covering her from head to foot. The stone was already out and at the sight of it Daisy gasped. What was once a dull gray lump now glittered from the inside out, almost as if a light was trapped within. 

“Nick,” she breathed, frozen where she stood, “It’s beautiful.” 

“Are you ready?” He held a hand out to her, calloused with a lifetime of grueling work. 

Daisy nodded and took his hand. Together, they held the stone between them. Under his breath, Nick muttered their shared wish: “We wish to attend the King’s masquerade ball.” 

In an instant, a newfound life breathed into their aching limbs, emanating from the stone. A slight breeze enveloped them, along with a pure light. Nick squeezed his eyes shut, the light so bright it burned his eyes. He felt his clothes and hair being ruffled by the breeze, a warmth sprouting from his center, and working its way outward so that he could feel it on his very skin. The light began to fade and he dared to open one eye. Daisy stood before him, but not as before. Had he not been here for the process himself, he never would’ve believed the lady standing in front of him to be his friend. 

The grime had been brushed from her skin and hair, as if she had been scrubbed clean. Her hair, usually tied back under a greasy kerchief, now hung in waves down her back. Most stunning of all was the ball gown. It was a pale golden silk, an elegant brocade spiraled on her bodice, which, on closer inspection, proved to be made of diamonds. Along with satin gloves and a mask to match, Daisy’s masquerade attire was complete. 

“Daisy,” Nick exclaimed in a hushed tone, “You look…”

Daisy, who had been examining herself in shock looked up at Nick, her eyes wide as she took him in. “Me? You should speak for yourself! Anyone would be a fool to not mistake you for a prince!” 

Nick looked down at himself. He wore a suit nearly identical to Daisy’s gown. It was made of a golden material, hundreds of miniscule diamonds creating a pattern on his lapels. In his hands, which had been covered with gloves of their own, rested a mask. This, too, was made of pure gold, and yet the metal was supple to the touch. There were no ties. Slowly, he lifted it to his face: a perfect fit. A bit of lace hung down where the mask ended, covering the rest of his nose and mouth. 

“Does it hide the scar?” He asked tentatively. That had been his main concern. He might be able to excuse his rough hands or his tanned skin, but the scar on his face was a dead give away to his identity. 

“It does,” Daisy confirmed with a nod, putting her own mask on. 

Suddenly, Nick began to look frantically around him. The stone was not in his hand, where it had been. Panic seized him. Had it disappeared with their wish? Relief replaced his anxiety as he spotted it on the floor near Daisy’s skirts. Gently, he picked it back up, wrapping it in the simple cloth he had, and placed it underneath his mattress for tomorrow evening. 

“Remember, the magic only lasts until sunrise.” 

Daisy nodded solemnly. “I’ll remember.” 

With that, Nick broke out into a wide smile, one that he hadn’t felt on himself in the longest time. “My lady,” he said, bowing ridiculously low to Daisy and offering her his arm. As he intended, Daisy giggled before returning an equally ridiculous curtsy. 

“Good sir,” she said, taking his arm. 

“Let us begin our night of merriment.” 

* * *

Despite what some may think, hosting a masquerade was not the most glamourous job in the world. As King and host, Jay had to spend the first while standing at one end of the ballroom, on a dais, receiving each and every guest. He would much rather be dancing, or sneaking far too many snacks from the tables, but one stern look from Jordan kept him at his position. At least Jordan stayed with him through this duty. Their commentary after each guest was the only thing that kept him going. 

It really was his own fault. After all, he  _ had  _ invited everyone in the kingdom, along with a few important guests from other kingdoms that his advisors had taken it upon themselves to invite. He was not ignorant. Jay knew these guests to be among his prospective suitors should he not find someone for himself at these celebrations. Fortunately, Jordan’s comments on such guests were particularly pointed. 

“My god,” was Jordan’s horrified whisper as one guest approached. 

“Comtesse Myrtle of Valashes,” the herald introduced. 

The comtesse gave a deep curtsy and a wide smile. The woman in the dress was not so bad; comely, even. This, however, was not the cause of Jordan’s distress or Jay’s headache. Her dress was a blinding cherry red, the skirt too large to possibly be easy to move in. The comtesse stayed in her curtsy and Jay half suspected it was because her dress was too heavy for her to rise again without help. Aside from the horrid color and design, she had on every gaudy trapping of wealth that the poor would imagine the upper class to wear. 

“‘Twas on honour to receive your invitation, your majesty,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, still in her curtsy. 

“Do you think it’s an accident or on purpose that her neckline lets you see straight down her dress when she curtsies?” Jordan mumbled into Jay’s ear. 

Jay drew his lips into a tight line to prevent the laugh that threatened to burst forward. 

“The true honour is being graced by her ladyship’s acceptance,” Jay replied automatically, giving her a slight bow and offering his hand. Taking it, she finally raised herself. Jay was right. Her grip on his hand was far too tight to be an effortless rise. The comtesse turned, her skirts nearly knocking all of Jay, Jordan, and the herald over in their wake. 

“Was that a dress or a costume?” Jordan asked under their breath, straightening their coat. 

Jay started to snigger but caught himself. “It  _ is  _ a masquerade, in the comtesse’s defense.” Still, he couldn’t help the smile. 

Jordan let out a playfully derisive huff. “And yet no one else here is dressed as an overripe fruit.” 

Jay’s shoulders began to shake, which Jordan took as a sign to keep going. 

“Such a dangerous dress. By the end of tonight half of your guests will have been blinded and the other half toppled over.” 

Jay didn’t finish laughing in time for the next guests’s introduction. 

Soon, all the guests had been greeted and it was officially time for the ball to start. Traditionally it began with the King. Over the past fortnight, Jay couldn’t tell if he looked forward to or dreaded this moment. However, as one guest had followed the other, he felt himself growing disappointed. Not one of them struck his fancy. There were a few gentlemen and gentlewomen who had held his attention superficially, but none that the King could see himself approaching for the fateful first dance. As much as he willed time to stop, the moment came. 

“The King will now choose his partner for the first dance!” The herald announced. General conversations died down and the ball room fell silent. Not even an excited buzz rose from the guests. Instead, a tension settled over the crowd. 

Maybe if he stayed on the dais, someone else would start the ball. Maybe no one would notice. Jordan began to subtly, yet painfully, prod him in the center of his back.  _ Get out there _ the Duke’s eyes flashed when Jay winced at his friend. Jay stepped forward to get out of Jordan’s range more than anything else. The air felt heavy as Jay scanned the sea of masks. It seemed that everyone, including him, were holding their breaths. It was in the glorious moment that fresh air happened to enter the room. 

Two more individuals entered the ballroom through the open doors. It was clear that they were trying to keep their arrival quiet, late as they were, but in the end it was futile. 

It happened just as Jay had always imagined it would, and yet entirely different at the same time. Everything slowed as his eyes fell upon the couple, particularly the gentleman. The breath was emptied from his lungs and then immediately replaced with the sweetest air, as if this was his first waking breath and he had been sleeping all his life until now. 

The man was breathtaking. His entire being seemed to glow, possibly because every inch of his person was covered in a delicate gold. The satin of his suit caught the light of the candles, the soft luminescence an excellent juxtaposition to his dark curls and sun kissed skin. One word came to Jay’s mind:  _ resplendent.  _

Soon the other guests began to swivel their heads, curious as to what could capture the King’s attention. A gentle murmur of conversation filled the room once more, questions about the pair rising all the way to the ceiling. Without a second more of hesitation, Jay strode directly up to the man. He bowed, and, after a moment, the man returned the gesture. The King, now simply a man standing in front of another, held out his hand, palm up. 

“May I have this dance?” 

A gloved hand, surprisingly firm, slipped into his and Jay led them out to the center of the dance floor. The crowds parted for them effortlessly, as if a bubble surrounded them and none but them could enter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy Jordan, their face slack in an expression Jay had never seen before. He followed their gaze to the woman who had entered with his own dance partner. She, too, had a bubble of space around her as the guests stared. 

All of this could be noticed and dealt with later. For now, it was only him and his mystery partner. He brought him around so that they were facing one another, their hands clasped this entire time. Jay’s other hand rested gently on the man’s waist, the touch eliciting a small intake of breath from the other and Jay’s heart  _ soared _ . The music began, a romantic piece with strings. The two glided together, their rhythm matching perfectly. As they waltzed, the rest of the room melted away and all that was left were each other’s eyes. The King found himself trapped in the twin green lights that glinted in adoration from behind the mask. 

Nick had come to the masque with a purpose in mind, but that purpose was now lost as the King spun him in his arms. All thoughts of justice and discussions flew out of his mind the moment he had joined hands with the monarch. And now, as the entire kingdom watched on, Nick was happy to be wrapped in the warmth of the King’s dark eyes. After a few turns around the room, others began to waltz alongside them. Somewhere to his left, Nick became vaguely aware of Daisy dancing with a stately figure Nick recognized to be the Grand Duke. They swept each other along, equally enthralled in each other as Nick and the King were. The dance finally ended, but the magic did not. 

The King had hardly waited until after the bows to beseech Nick again. 

“May I have this dance as well?” He asked, his smile bright. Even with his dark skin, Nick could tell that he was flushed as much, if not more, than he was. Nick had always known the King to be a handsome man, having seen him walking through the gardens before, yet it was always at a distance. Here, not even a foot away from him, it took all of Nick’s power not to swoon at the mere sight of his smile. And really, how could Nick refuse when the King looked at him with so much hope it made his heart ache. 

“I would love to, your majesty,” Nick answered, his voice gentle and shy. As the next reel began, they took up their previous position. However, the King did seem to hold Nick closer this time, his hand resting on his back instead of his waist, their faces mere inches apart now. Again, Nick was grateful for the protection of the mask. But he could not allow himself to be swept away this time. He had a duty to Daisy. 

“Your Majesty?” Nick began, the dance calm enough that they could hold a conversation without becoming winded. 

“What is it?” The King asked, his eyes suddenly growing nervous. 

“I find...myself in need of your help.” Nick bit his lower lip. He hadn’t planned on what to say to the King once he had gotten to him. If he was truthful, their disguises would be found out within seconds. Now more than ever, Nick needed to keep up the pretense. He didn’t want to risk being kicked out of the ball. Not that he believed that the King would do that to him, but he doubted the choice was left entirely to him. If they were kicked out tonight, then they couldn’t return for the other two, and Nick couldn’t do that to Daisy. And yet, he could not ask his help efficiently without being entirely truthful. 

“Oh,” the King breathed, relieved, “Well, whatever it is, you need only ask and I will help you, even beyond my fullest extent.” 

The response was so genuine, so good-hearted, that Nick didn’t think he could bear it. He turned his head to the side, and chewed on his lip to keep it from quivering, not that the King would be able to see anyways. How eager he was to help a stranger...the world needed more men like him. 

“Are you alright?” The King asked, worried again. 

“Fine,” Nick replied, his voice choked. 

“It was not my intent to offend!” The King rushed to say. What a dunce he was, making his dance partner cry.

“You didn’t” Nick smiled weakly at him, eyes glistening under his mask. “Quite the opposite. Your words were so kind...my heart was not ready.” 

Jay could feel his inside begin to morph into butterflies. Any second now, their colorful wings would erupt out of him. 

“Oh,” he responded simply, a smile settling itself back onto his lips. “What is it you need help with?”

Only silence came from his dance partner. He spun him around. Once he returned to his arms, he spoke. 

“It’s...difficult to explain.” 

“Fret not,” Jay tried his best to be assuring, “There is time enough to find the words. In the meantime, will you stay by my side throughout the night?” 

The mystery man laughed at this. “I don’t think your other hopeful guests would appreciate it much!” Sure enough, some guests were already looking at him with sour expressions for having stolen two dances with the King in a row. 

“I do not care what they think,” Jay said seriously. 

The dance ended and the other couples began to applaud and bow. However, the King and his partner did not break apart. Only when a bold father approached with his daughter did the two become aware of the others in the room once more. Nick used this distraction to slip away. The longer he stayed in the King’s presence, the harder it became to breath, or to keep his thoughts from running wild. He slipped through the crowd and off of the dance floor as the next dance began, a lively fast-paced one. Once free, Nick looked back. The King was dancing with the gentleman's daughter, smiling politely, she blushing furiously all the while. Something about the sight sent a pang through him.  _ Don’t be ridiculous _ he chastised himself  _ you’ve only shared two dances, you’re not betrothed.  _

He scanned the crowd for Daisy and spotted her dancing with the Grand Duke...again. Both were smiling and laughing as they performed the spirited dance. Their hands never parted. Nick felt his own smile returning. So Daisy had found someone as well. He watched for a moment longer before ducking out onto the terrace. Nick had always preferred it outside. The gardens were gorgeous bathed in moonlight. He relished being able to appreciate them without having to tend them at the same time. 

Nick retreated to a shaded corner of the terrace, leaning against the palace walls. He drank in the cool evening air and with each gulp he grounded himself back in reality. 

_ You’re a gardener. He’s a King. You’re from separate worlds.  _

Someone else stepped out onto the terrace and Nick startled out of his relaxed position, though from where he was, they wouldn’t immediately see him. His heart leapt and his stomach did somersaults as he recognized the King. He looked out across the gardens and sighed, before turning black to the palace. Once turned around, he spotted Nick against the wall in the shadows. 

“Oh! There you are!” He said happily before clearing his throat. “I mean, er, what brings you out here?” The king had removed his mask, his expressions unobstructed now, including the wince he made at his own fumble. Nick found it endearing and the ache that had been with him while dancing returned. He was glad the mask was gone now, not that it had been particularly effective in the first place, having been made of a thin bronze filigree and doing little to disguise his features. 

Nick smiled and ambled over to the King’s side. “I love your gardens,” he said honestly, “Whoever tends to them certainly works hard to make them the way that they are.” Nick smiled to himself. It was true after all, and after the exhaustion of the last two weeks, he felt he deserved to pat himself on the back a bit. “Besides, I needed some fresh air.” He looked back at the King to find him gazing at him with an inexplicable fondness. 

“Would you like to see my favorite part?” 

Nick’s eyes darted back towards the ballroom, the warm orange light spilling out from the glass doors onto the terrace. 

“Yes. As long as I’m not accused of kidnapping the King.” 

The King laughed at this, deep and rich. 

“Come along,” he said, the laughter still in his voice as he offered an arm to Nick. 

The gardener couldn’t help beaming as he linked arms with the King. Strolling through the gardens purely for pleasure was an odd experience, not that Nick minded it. Secretly, he was eager to see what particular patch was the King’s favorite place. Would it be one the places Nick worked? 

Jay led them around to the side of the palace. The path opened up slightly and the hedges died away as they came upon the chrysanthemum patch directly outside the King’s balcony. 

“This is my favorite place. I love being in the gardens too, but it’s not often any more that I am able. This flower patch however...it brings the garden to me. I can see it from where I work.” The King crouched down by the flower bed and plucked one of the chrysanthemums. “I love these flowers...they’re so vibrant and joyful.” 

Nick tried not to shake as the King spoke. So he had noticed. Long ago he had planted this patch specifically for the King, to brighten his day in whatever small way he could. Now, after all this time, he found out that his efforts were appreciated. Not just appreciated, but loved. Nick didn’t even mind when the King plucked one of the flowers from its stem. Said flower found its new home tucked into one of Nick’s buttonholes, placed there by the King. His hand lingered there, on Nick’s chest. On an impulse, Nick placed his hand over the King’s, keeping both of their hands over his heart. 

The King’s eyes flitted up to meet his and his breath, if he had any left, caught in his throat. As suddenly as he brought his hand up, he let it fall and stepped back, the King’s hand falling away as well. 

“Thank you, your majesty-” he said to the ground “-for bringing me here.” 

“Please,” the King’s voice was quiet, “Call me Jay.” 

“Thank you, Jay,” Nick corrected, loving the way his name felt on his tongue, how freeing it was to use something so intimate as a name.

Jay offered Nick his arm again and they began, very languidly, to pick their way back to the terrace. A few electric moments passed between them before Jay broke the silence. 

“And what should I call you?” 

Oh no. Twice in one night, Nick risked exposing his secret. An idea popped into his head. Without thinking it through, he replied. 

“Chrys.” 

“Chrys,” Jay repeated. “Is that your real name?” 

Nick fought the urge to run, opting for confidence instead. “It is for tonight.” 

Jay made an amused sound, but accepted the answer nonetheless. “Only Chrys?” He prodded after a few more seconds. 

“Chrys of Themum.” 

Jay nodded before stopping abruptly, Nick stopping with him. His brows furrowed as he tried to determine why the name sounded so familiar. As he processed, he broke out into a splendiferous smile. 

“Chrysanthemum!” He laughed softly. “Clever.” 

All too soon, they had reached the terrace once more. Jay paused, and took both of Nick’s hands in his. 

“Thank you for walking with me, Chrys.” 

Nick could only nod, the look in Jay’s eyes rendering his tongue useless. 

“I’ve neglected my guests for too long, but promise to save a few more dances for me?” 

Nick grinned, helpless to refuse the simple request. 

Jay squeezed his hands before letting them go. “I will meet you inside,” he murmured, lingering for a second more before retreating back inside the palace. Alone again, Nick allowed himself to melt. Smiling like a fool, he brought his hands up to his face. He couldn’t stop giggling. They would come in bursts, little fizzles of happiness trickling out of him. He sunk to the terrace steps, his legs no longer able to support him. All he wanted was to leap around and whoop. The entire night sky could not hold the elated joy he felt after the precious time he had spent with King Jay. They had held hands, he had been given a flower, and for the briefest of moments, Nick was sure that they might’ve kissed...if only he hadn’t stepped away. However, a sobering thought brought him down a little. He still had to get help for Daisy. No doubt she had enjoyed her night as well, but this was just one night. After the masque, she would have to return to that awful household. Nick had to make sure that didn’t happen. Nick rose to return inside when something made his heart stop. 

The sky was lightening. The sun was not here yet, but the east sky was undoubtedly changing from inky black to a purple. He had to find Daisy. Nick rushed back into the ballroom. It was easy to spot Daisy, her dress standing out amongst the other ladies’. She was still with the Grand Duke, though they were no longer dancing. They stood by the banquet table, crystal glasses with a sparkling liquid in their hands. Daisy had her head at a coquettish angle as she listened to Jordan. Nick, not having the time for societal niceties, hurried to her side. He put a gentle hand on her arm before whispering to her and interrupting the Grand Duke, “It’s time.” 

Daisy’s eyes widened and a pained look crossed her face.  _ Not already _ her expression implored but neither of them had the ability to stop the sun. Both of them muttered a quick apology to the Grand Duke before fleeing the ball. Nick barely had enough time to turn his head to look back. His eyes found Jay, who was looking after him confused, almost hurt. He wanted to explain, apologize, something, but there was no time. Daisy was tugging on his arm. Neither of them wanted to risk transforming back into their true selves, especially not in front of the kindred spirits they had met. 

Luckily, they had not far to go. They had to sneak through the grounds, careful not to catch the attention of lurking guards or servants. Only when they had slipped back into Nick’s cottage did their nerves cease. 

Together, they watched the sun come up over the next minute. The transformation back into themselves was not as glorious as the previous one. Their clothes began to fade back into their rags. However, they were not returned to their filth. They made sure to gather up some of the dust and dirt from both his floor and outside onto themselves, so that their sudden cleanliness was not questioned. 

Daisy pulled Nick into a tight hug, dreamy smile on her face. “Thank you, Nicky,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Tonight was magical.” Nick accepted the hug, but could not match her emotion. He was already looking forward to the next night, practically thrumming with anticipation to see Jay once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really a Great Gatsby Fic without a green light reference?   
> Also, for Myrtle's title: I just thought that comtesse sounded fancy and Valashes is a combination of "valley" and "ashes" as a call back to the book.   
> I haven't done a ton of research for this fic, I'm just sort of having fun with it and pulling details from different fairytales or from past research I've done for other stories.


End file.
